


I'm Just Curious (Is It Serious?)

by haiplana



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Athletes, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Olympics, Romance, Skiing, minor Nate/Ray, minor amaya/zari
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haiplana/pseuds/haiplana
Summary: First-time Olympian Sara Lance arrives in Pyeongchang expecting to ride her snowboard to the gold. What she isn't expecting is to constantly cross paths with intense Alpine skier Ava Sharpe -- one of the only out American athletes at the 2018 Winter Olympic Games.orthe Olympic AU that only I asked for and no one else wrote





	I'm Just Curious (Is It Serious?)

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fluff, please do not expect any slow burn.
> 
> Writing real people is strange so I apologize for the Gus Kenworthy and Adam Rippon stuff.

“Sara.”

Sara Lance screws her face up, taking a gasping breath. She had been in such a deep sleep that being suddenly woken up is physically painful. Music is still playing in one ear, the obnoxious hum of the plane ringing in the other. She slaps a hand over her face and pulls down the thin eye mask. Amaya Jiwe is leaning over her with a grin on her face.

“What the hell?” Sara groans.

“We’re landing in thirty minutes. It’s time for breakfast.”

Zari Tomaz’s head appears from the other side of Amaya, across the aisle. “Good morning, Sleeping Ugly!”

“Welcome to South Korea, Cap,” Mick Rory grumbles from behind her.

Sara presses the button on her seat to slowly raise her from the prone position. She turns off her music and takes out the other earbud, cringing at the change in pressure in her ears. Amaya reaches up and turns on the overhead light.

“Where are Ray and Nate?” Sara asks.

“Watching a movie over there,” Amaya answers, pointing to the other side of the plane. Ray Palmer and Nate Heywood are in their seats sharing headphones and laughing along to some movie.

“Don’t forget to text your dad,” Zari says. “There’s still WiFi.”

Sara nods and looks down at her phone. Her screen is filled with Twitter notifications, mostly retweets and replies to her latest post. Amaya leans over and looks at the screen as Sara scrolls through some of the responses.

“Look at how many people you’re inspiring.”

Sara smiles to herself. “Yeah.”

“Do you know any of the other out athletes?”

“No,” Sara says. “I saw Gus Kenworthy on the slopes at the X-Games, but I’ve never met him.”

“What about that girl? Ava Sharpe?”

“I hadn’t heard of her before the HRC article.” Sara opens her texts to let her father know that they’re about to land. It’s the middle of the night in America, but Sara knows that Quentin Lance will answer. He was devastated when he found out that he couldn’t take time off to travel with her, and he promised that he would always be up to talk to her.

“Look her up,” Zari says.

“What?” Sara looks up from her phone.

“Look up Ava Sharpe on the internet. You know, that magical, all-knowing database?” Zara jokes, and Sara sticks her tongue out at her. She opens Safari, though, and types in the name.

“She’s twenty-eight, an Alpine skier. It’s her second Olympics. She took a hard fall during slalom training at Sochi and couldn’t compete,” Sara reads from the Wikepedia quick facts. “Apparently she was outed by a tabloid.”

“That sucks,” Amaya says.

Before Sara can continue, the flight attendant walks toward them with their packaged breakfast. She places Sara’s tray in front of her with a tired smile, and Sara nods and thanks her. She can’t eat the soggy bread and stale fruit, but she tries to pick at the sausage.

It’s another twenty minutes until they land, and another twenty to get through immigration and customs. Sara and her crew marvel at the brightness of Korea, at all the athletes arriving. Sara is sure that she hears ten different languages at baggage claim. As soon as everyone collects their things and Sara makes sure her board is okay, they pile into a van and start for Pyeongchang.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you know that the Olympic Committee is expected to distribute thirty-seven condoms per athlete over the next two weeks?” Zari says from the bed in Sara’s small, Olympic Village room. She was lucky enough to score two rooms for her whole crew in one of the high-rises allotted to the snow-sport athletes instead of making her friends pay for a hotel nearby.

“That sounds… neat,” Amaya responds. She stands before the dresser, unpacking some of her things.

“It says here that all the available athletes use Tinder, so hook-ups are, like, really common.” Zari holds up her phone to show them a Tumblr post revealing the dirty side of the Olympics. Then, she looks at Sara, a mischievous grin on her face. “You still have your Tinder account, right?”

“Of course,” Sara scoffs.

Zari throws her hands in the air. “Perfect! We can set you up with a couple people, you can get it on, no strings attached — your favorite — then you can return home with some cool hook up stories. How do you feel about the Dutch? I heard they’re all gorgeous. And the Jamaican bobsled team! Have you seen the thighs on those ladies? Oh boy.”

“She’s here to snowboard, babe, not to have sex,” Amaya says, glaring at her girlfriend.

“Who says she can’t do both?”

“Sara is competing in slopestyle, half-pipe, and snowboard cross, which is more events than any snowboarder at these games. She has to train for each event. As her official coach, I think she should conserve her energy.”

“Way to be a downer,” Zari grumbles. She looks to Sara for input, who only shrugs.

“We’ll see,” she whispers, and Zari throws her fist into the air. Sara stands and pulls on her red and black Patagonia sweater. “I’m gonna get some snacks from the vending machine down the hall.”

“Get me some cheese crackers!” Zari calls.

Sara pulls the door closed behind her. The hallway is empty, but some of the doors are open, sounds of unpacking, talking, and music floating from them. The walls are a cream color, and the doors are red. An American flag hangs from the wall a few doors down. Sara’s heart beats at the sight. Snowboarding in the Olympics has always been a dream of hers, and though it took her longer than most, she’s finally here.

Suddenly, Sara’s body hits a hard object, and that object is falling. Sara reaches out and grabs the first thing she sees — an arm, toned muscle hidden under a black sleeve. Sara is able to right the person, but she forgets to let go when she sees the sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. The woman jerks her arm out of Sara’s grasp, and Sara suddenly straightens and looks away.

“I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the woman says, starting on her way.

“Wait, are you Ava Sharpe?” Sara asks. The woman stops and turns around to face Sara. Sara wants to kick herself. Of course it’s Ava Sharpe. She looks exactly like her Wikepedia picture — attractive, angular face, blonde hair pulled back into a bun, soft-looking pink lips.

Ava nods. “And you are?”

“Sara,” Sara responds, finding her confidence return, “Sara Lance.”

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan. If you’ll excuse me,” Ava says, and she’s continuing down the hall before Sara can say another word.

Sara’s blood boils. Who was this woman to be so dismissive? How could she not even know who Sara was? Sara isn’t full of herself, but really, they had been featured in about five articles together already. Is Ava Sharpe that out of touch, or is she that rude?

Sara bursts into her room as Zari is reading something from her phone. “Sara! What do you think about going to a curling match tonight? Where are the snacks?”

“Guess who I just met,” Sara says, her jaw tight.

Zari gasps. “Maame Biney?”

“Ava Sharpe.” Sara falls onto the bed next to Zari,

“And?” Amaya asks.

“Is she hot?” Zari questions.

Sara lets out a breath. “She is so rude. Honestly, she must have a stick up her ass. Who just walks away? I was being friendly, I introduced myself. Wow. I hate athletes.” Amaya and Zari are silent. Sara finally looks at them, and she finds them smiling softly. “What?”

“You have a crush on her,” Amaya says.

“Are you kidding me?” Sara exclaims, throwing her arms into the air. “How could I have a crush on her? I just met her, and she didn’t make a good first impression.”

“You wouldn’t care so much if you weren’t into her.”

“Isn’t she, like, gorgeous?” Zari asks, immediately typing on her phone. “Oh, yeah she is. I get it now.”

“I’m not into her!” Sara covers her blushing face with her hands. Why is she blushing?

“Maybe she’s shy. I’m sure you can turn on the moves, Sara,” Amaya says with a smirk.

Zari narrows her eyes at Amaya. “I thought you said Sara should focus on boarding?”

“You know I’m a sucker for romance. How cute would this story be? Met at the Olympics as two of five out LGBT American athletes, fell in love, got married, had super strong athlete babies…”

Sara jumps up from the bed and makes for the door. “I’m going to the boys’ room!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Olympic Stadium is buzzing as the Opening Ceremony is about to begin. Sara stands with her crew, all of them bundled in their stylish ski coats and soft sweaters. She proudly dons the sweater, coat, and gloves of the United States. Around her, almost 243 American athletes are chatting, hugging, and greeting each other for the first time. 

“We’ll find you after the ceremony,” Nate says. Ray pulls Sara’s USA hat onto her head and fixes her hair.

“Then we get to party!” Zari exclaims. “Hold on. Is that Tara Lipinski and Johnny Weir? They are _iconic._ Gotta go.”

Amaya follows Zari, Nate and Ray skipping hand-in-hand after them.

“Have fun out there, Cap,” Mick says, laying a hand on Sara’s shoulder proudly. “Make some friends.”

“Thanks, Rory.” Sara smiles lightly. Her friend walks away, and then she’s alone among hundreds of people. She can barely distinguish one person from another in the matching outfits. She sees some of the most famous athletes — Shawn White is taking pictures with Lindsey Vonn at the edge of the crowd. Mikaela Shiffrin is talking with Mirai Nagasu. Chloe Kim, Red Gerard, and Nathan Chen are shaking hands.

“Hey, you’re Sara Lance, right?” A voice asks beside Sara. She turns her head to find Gus Kenworthy smiling at her.

“Yeah, I am. You’re Gus Kenworthy.”

“Right,” he says. They shake hands. “I wanted to find Adam Rippon and Brittany Bowe, take some queer athlete pictures. Do you want to come?”

Sara nods. “That would be cool.” They start into the crowd, trying to fit past athletes large and small.

“It’s really great that you’re out. I was worried that there wouldn’t be any out bisexual athletes these games.”

“The representation is important to you, isn’t it?” Sara asks.

“Yeah. When I was young, I never saw gay athletes. It’s important to me to show queer kids that they can do what we do,” Gus responds softly.

“It’s something that’s important to me, too. I mean, I never considered myself in the closet because I’ve had such a base of support from my family and friends. Of course, there’s been a lot of homophobia and biphobia from competitors, but I was never scared to be who I was. I realized how important my confidence was when I met so many young queer kids who told me I helped them come out to their families and friends.” Sara stops and smiles. “Being a role model feels great.”

Gus nods. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and removes his gloves. “Do you mind if I take some videos?”

“Not at all,” Sara says. She pulls her phone out, too, and starts an Instagram livestream.

They continue to search through the crowd, making small talk, taking videos, and chatting with fans. Gus yells out for Adam, yet they get no response. When they reach Mirai, Sara is a little starstruck. Gus asks where Adam is, and Mirai points to a group of athletes laughing. Adam is in the center, holding the conversation.

“Adam!” Gus calls, and Adam rushes over. “Hey, man, this is Sara Lance.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Sara,” Adam says as he pulls her in for a hug.

“We need to get pictures.” Gus pushes Adam into a less crowded spot.

“I’ll take some of you two.” Sara takes Gus’ phone and lets them pose while she snaps cute photos. Gus pulls Brittany Bowe from the group of speed skaters and they take more pictures. They hand the phone to someone else so they can get a group shot.

“Wait! We need Ava!” Adam rushes off into the crowd.

Sara turns to Gus. “I wouldn’t count on her joining us.”

“I found her!” Adam is walking towards them, tugging Ava Sharpe behind him. She looks a little amused, and there is a smile on her face, something Sara is shocked to see.

“Nice to meet you,” Gus says as he shakes Ava’s hand. Ava nods. “We want to get some queer athlete pictures if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Ava replies, and Sara is floored. Ava finally locks her gaze onto Sara, and her eyes widen for a moment. “You’re that girl from the hallway. Sally…”

“Sara Lance, snowboarder,” Sara says, extending her hand. Ava really looks at her, almost sizes her up, before shaking her hand.

Their designated photographer tells them to pose, and they take a group shot. Sara swears that, even though Ava is on the other side of Gus, she can feel her hand on her back. By the time they finish taking photos, the parade begins. They are all ushered towards the doors to the open stadium. People are still laughing and taking photos. Sara feels a bit out of place — she doesn’t know many professional athletes. Gus and Adam are in front of her, and Ava is to her left, pointedly ignoring her.

“So,” Sara begins, attempting to make small-talk, “are you going to the party tonight?”

“No.” Ava stares straight ahead.

“It’s supposed to be wild.”

Ava sighs. “I’m here to compete, not to go to ragers.”

“We’re all here to compete, but we have to keep it light,” Sara says.

“Dedication rarely allows for that,” Ava responds. “Maybe I’m just more dedicated than you. I have given up my life for my sport, for this event. I can’t jeopardize that."

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is,” Sara snaps, “but maybe you should try and think about how you’re treating other people here. Being cutthroat and rude won’t make you a better competitor. You don’t know me or how much I have dedicated to what I do. Don’t assume that I haven’t lost people to this.”

Sara catches up to Gus and Adam just as they break through the doors and into the stadium, leaving Ava in their wake.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Look at how Evgenia Medvedeva moves,” Amaya marvels.

“She’s spectacular,” Ray agrees.

Sara nods. “And she’s gorgeous.”

“She’s a little young for you, hon,” Zari says. Sara leans over and punches Zari’s arm.

“I know that, Z. I’m just stating a fact.” Sara looks at all of the skaters warming up on the ice, watches their strong muscles move with each fluid movement. “Carolina Kostner is more my speed.”

Her crew ‘ooh’s. Mick raises his cup of beer. “Get it, Cap.”

“Excuse me.” Sara freezes. She doesn’t need to look up to know who has just spoken to her. But, she does. There, in all her stuck-up glory is Ava Sharpe. “Miss Lance, may I speak with you?”

Sara looks back to Amaya, who nods her head assuredly. Zari throws her two thumbs up. “Sure.” She stands, and Mick, Nate, and Ray stand with her to let her out. She gets to the stairs where Ava is waiting. “Does anyone want anything while I’m gone?”

“Another beer,” Mick says. Sara nods, and then follows Ava up the stairs and to the landing.

The stadium is beginning to fill up. It’s the first night of figure skating, and the short programs are supposed to be amazing. People are entering the stadium, getting food and drinks, buying flowers and toys to toss onto the ice after beautiful skates. The lights are bright, the advertisements are colorful. The Olympic rings are proudly on display all over the building. Sara and Ava walk in silence until they reach a beer vendor. Sara puts her hands in her sweatshirt pocket and rocks onto her toes.

“Did you—”

“I want to—”

Sara laughs softly. “You talk.”

“Thanks,” Ava says. “I just wanted to say that I am… sorry. I misjudged you, and I was rude.”

“It’s okay.”

“I hope I haven’t overstepped, but I looked you up. I’m very sorry about your sister.” Ava looks apologetic, and Sara tightens her jaw.

“The accident was a long time ago, but it hurts,” Sara says. “I meant it when I said I lost people to this sport.” Sara clears her throat. “Anyway, I looked you up, too. I heard you were outed.”

Before Ava can respond, it’s Sara’s turn at the beer stand. She orders another cup, and Ava throws down money. Sara tries to protest, but Ava insists.

“I like for my private life to be private. You and I both know how conservative these athletes can be, especially on the world stage. I felt it was safer to keep my identity to myself,” Ava explains. “I wasn’t even out to my parents. When the tabloid posted pictures of me and my ex-girlfriend after Sochi, that was that. My parents turned on me, sponsors dropped me, I couldn’t ski for months. I lost everything.”

“Oh, Ava, I didn’t know,” Sara says quietly. Their walk back to Sara’s seat is much slower than before. The walkways have cleared out. The skating is about to start, but Sara can’t find it in her to care.

“I learned to deal with it. My coach stuck with me, that’s all I needed. Skiing is all I have now.” She stops at the entrance to the seating. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I can ask you one.”

Ava nods. “Why does your friend call you ‘Cap’?”

“Mick?” Sara laughs. “We were on a snowboard team when we were kids and I was captain of the team, so he’s called me Cap ever since.”

“Hm. Now your question?”

“How did you know where I was?” Sara asks.

A blush spreads over Ava’s face and she dips her head. “Adam told me he hooked you up with tickets tonight and told me where to find you.”

“Well, I’m glad you found me.” Sara smiles at Ava’s still-blushing face. “Are you going to stay and watch?”

“I can’t. I have to train.” Ava bites her lip as Sara laughs.

“You never stop, do you?”

“I can’t afford to,” Ava says. “Have a good night, Sara Lance.”

“You too, Ava Sharpe.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sara’s alarm goes off, as scheduled, at 3:30 AM. Beside her, Amaya stirs, but Zari continues to sleep. They look peaceful snuggled together. Sara slips out of their shared bed silently and pads to the bathroom. She splashes water over her face and goes through a quick face routine, layers on moisturizer and sunscreen. When she returns to the bedroom, she pulls out her underclothes, then her white sweatshirt, her pink snow pants, and her green and pink flowered snow jacket. Then, she laces her boots, grabs her board, helmet, and goggles, and leaves.

Sara turns the corner of the hallway and almost runs into Ava, again, who is locking the door to her apartment.

“Are you following me?” Sara asks with a smirk.

Startled, Ava drops her key on the ground. She picks it up before turning to look at Sara, hands on her hips. “What are you doing up?”

“Going to a barbecue.” Ava laughs at Sara’s quip. “I’m taking some runs. You?”

“Same,” Ava says. She holds up her skis and poles. “Want to go with me?”

Sara nods. They walk quietly down the halls of the high-rise and finally into the chilly morning air. The sun has quite a while to rise, so the lights surrounding the Olympic Village are on. It’s a calm morning, free of the wind that seems to pick up around noon. Sara sets her board against a bench on the sidewalk and pulls on the pair of gloves that she keeps in her coat pocket. Ava does the same. When that’s settled, they walk up the mountain to the slopes.

It’s a bit of a journey, but it’s refreshing. Sara sometimes hears a car driving down the road, or a person shouting while trying to set up a booth. The sounds drift away the further up the mountain they go.

The slopes are already illuminated when they arrive. Sara can’t imagine that anyone else would be skiing, but these are Olympic athletes — she and Ava can’t be the only crazy morning people in Pyeongchang. The lift isn’t moving, though, and while Sara prepares herself to walk up the mountain, Ava goes to the lift control and taps on the window. Sara can see a little light through the window. Suddenly, a big man with a perfectly manicured blonde mustache walks out of the booth.

“Hello, Miss Ava!” the man says in a heavy Swedish accent. “Another early ski?”

“Yes, Isak. How are you this morning?”

“Very good. I will start the lift.” Isak returns to the booth as Ava thanks him.

Ava moves to get on the lift just as it grinds to a start. She looks back to Sara, who shakes her head in adoring awe. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Sara says. She takes another moment to shake her head and laugh at Ava. This beautiful, intense, sometimes harsh woman frequents the slopes in the pitch black enough to befriend a Swedish lift operator.

They strap into their gear and then stand in the loading zone. The chair hits the backs of Sara’s knees and she sits back into the lift. It’s a long, shaky ride to the top. Sara can feel the press of Ava beside her. The warmth spreads from her side and into her chest. They stay silent still, and though Sara is a talkative person, she finds comfort in this silence. It doesn’t feel weighted by secrets and demons, but filled by peace and respect.

They get to the top and slide away from the lift. Sara pulls her goggles down from her helmet and over her eyes, painting the world in a sheen of gray. Ava has done the same, and she grips her poles and starts pushing to the top of the hill. Sara follows her, and when they stop, she straps her foot into her board.

“Ready?” Ava asks, looking a little impatient.

“Want to race?” Sara smiles as Ava sighs.

“You’re asking to lose.”

“We’ll see about that.” Sara jumps forward and takes off. 

The slope starts gradually, but Sara can feel it steepening as she goes. She can feel Ava on her tail, but she focuses on her line and speeds on. The wind fills her ears, as well as the sound of her board gliding over the packed snow. To her left, Ava speeds past her, and Sara grumbles to herself before bending down to speed up. As they near the bottom, Sara realizes that she has no chance, so she pulls back her speed as Ava slides to a victory, spraying snow in a big cloud.

“Congrats,” Sara deadpans, but she has a smile on her face.

“Rematch?” Ava asks, but Sara shakes her head. Ava is about to make fun of her, Sara knows, so she unlatches her foot and slides over to the lift.

“Just get on the lift, Sharpe.”

They ride up the mountain again and start on their way down. This time, Ava is serious, and she starts taking wide, fast turns as though she is going through gates. Sara watches in awe as Ava glides down the hill in majestic fashion. Every once in a while, she will hop, as though simulating a jump. Sara laughs each time she does it. There are some small jumps made of packed snow on the edge of the slope, and Sara hits a few of them, practicing her switches. When she looks at the bottom of the hill, she sees that Ava has stopped, waiting for Sara. Sara slides to stop next to her.

“Those jumps looked intense,” Ava jokes, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“So did your little hops,” Sara responds.

Ava dips her head. “I’m practicing the jumps for super-G. I know it looks weird.”

“No, it’s cute.”

They stop and stare at each other for a moment before awkwardly breaking eye contact.

“Let’s uh—”

“Yeah,” Sara says, and they move to get on the lift.

The rest of their runs are spent in silence, each trying to practice their own techniques. Soon, the sun begins to rise and the practice slope begins to fill, and the sanctity of the quiet morning with Ava is over. They leave when people begin to arrive.

“Do you want to go to breakfast?” Sara asks as they walk towards the high-rise. “I know a little place in town.”

“We have a slalom practice run in a few hours,” Ava replies. Sara’s heart sinks a little.

“Oh, okay.” They reach the door to the high-rise. Ava stops to peel off her gloves and jacket, but Sara opens the door. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Sara,” Ava calls, but Sara ignores her and dashes into the building.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, I have sunscreen, an American flag, a bi pride flag, posters, pictures of Sara’s head, five pairs of gloves, a portable charging port, and a flask for Mick,” Zari lists as she roots through her bag. “Do we need anything else?”

Sara laughs. “I think we’re good, Z, thanks.”

“Do you have your headphones?” Amaya asks. Sara holds them up before plugging them into her phone.

“Are we ready, then?” Ray is ready to leave, seemingly more excited than Sara is. When everyone nods yes, they file out of Sara’s room and down the hallways of the high-rise. Sara’s heart races at each corner, hoping and fearing that they’ll run into a blonde skier. They don’t.

A shuttle cart is waiting to take them to the slopestyle park. They pile on and are whisked away towards the mountain. Sara puts an earbud in and turns on her warm-up playlist. Her arms wrap protectively around her board.

It takes them a few minutes to get to the bottom of the hill. The line for check-in is long, but they get through it quickly. Sara receives her Olympic bib — she’s entered as number twelve — and she slips it over her head so it fits smoothly on top of her brown American jacket.

“We have twenty minutes until the start. Let’s go to the top?” Amaya asks.

“Yeah,” Sara responds, a little distracted by nerves. She can already feel the dull pit in her stomach.

“Good luck, Cap. You better qualify.” Mick pats Sara’s shoulder, never one for hugs.

Ray, however, loves hugs, and he tugs Sara in. “You will be amazing, Sara.”

“Do some sick flips for us,” Nate says, hugging Sara and kissing her forehead.

“We love you, sister.” Zari nearly knocks Sara over with the force of her hug.

Sara releases a shaky breath. “I love you guys, too.”

Amaya ushers Sara away and to the lift. They take it to the top of the slopestyle park with a few other competitors and coaches. Amaya leads Sara to a quiet part of the staging area. The wind pushes at Sara’s blonde hair and sweeps it over her face. Amaya brushes it back for her with a bare hand.

“You have a routine in mind?” Amaya asks. Sara nods. “Backside five-forty, frontside ten-eighty, and then make it up?” Sara nods again. “Cool. Loosen your hips right now, I’ll get the scoop on the judges and grab you some water.

Amaya walks away and Sara puts her other earbud in her ear. She’s surrounded by upbeat music as she tries to steady the beating of her heart. Sara knows that she’s one of the favorites in this event, and though that is reassuring, it makes the nerves ten time worse. She closes her eyes, doing her best to ignore the other competitors. She hops up and down a few times to get her blood pumping, stretches out her legs, then twists her upper body to loosen her hips.

The time flies by. Amaya returns with a bottle of water for Sara. She chugs it in just a few gulps. Amaya lets her know that the judges really want style. If it’s style they want, Sara decides, then it’s style they’ll get.

Sara is the twelfth boarder out of twenty four. Each run takes about two minutes, so it’s about another half hour before she drops. She can’t even watch the other competitors. She sits in the snow and listens to music as Amaya hovers over her, keeping track of the other scores. Sara can see a boarder get pulled off of the slope after going down hard off of the rail section.

When they get to the tenth boarder, Amaya pulls Sara up from the ground and helps her get stretched and settled. Sara pulls her black helmet over her head, puts on her black goggles.

Amaya taps the white bird drawn on Sara’s helmet. “Fly, Canary,” she says, and Sara’s heart races.

One more boarder, and Sara is standing at the top of the hill.

She gets the signal that it’s her turn, and she bounces forward to get going.

Sara starts on the straight rail just to test the elements. She spins on and does a half rotation off. The snow is firm under her board. On the next element, she starts on the right, goes up the slope, flies over the metal hitching post, taps the nose of her board, and goes down on the other side. She jumps on the end of another rail almost immediately, then switches her stance and continues on. She takes on the final rail and dismounts with a two-seventy. 

Next, the three massive jumps. Sara takes them one at a time. She takes the tilted slope on the right. Her body is thrown into the air, and she whips her hips and shoulders around. The ground comes rushing toward her, so she throws her heels down. Her board makes contact with the snow, and she bends her knees, landing perfectly. Her line takes her straight to the next jump, and she flips into the air and rotates as much as she can, gets a grab on her board, and barely lands. She tries to get her board under control, but she can’t, and she skids out on her back.

With a groan, Sara gets back up and goes around the next jump to get down the rest of the hill. She wants to get back to the top and try again, but she has to wait at the bottom for her score. A camera follows her as she unstraps from her board and lifts her goggles. It takes a few moments, but she’s awarded with a 54.35. The crowd still cheers. 

Sara walks through the athlete path. Her friends are huddled together at the side, screaming. Mick has a picture of Sara’s head, Ray and Nate have signs, and Zari holds the bi pride flag. Sara smiles at them and gives high-fives where they are due. She’s calm, but ready to try again. Just as she’s about to get on the lift, she stops. Standing at the end of the path is Ava, long hair waving around her face. She looks beautiful.

“I’m disappointed, Lance,” Ava says, a stern look on her face. “I came here to see the agile American boarder who soars into first place every time she competes.”

“Have you been reading up on me?” Sara smiles and paces to the taller woman, standing closer than normal. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the look on Ava’s face, but Sara wants to be close to her, to impress her.

“I like to be knowledgeable.”

Sara bites her lip as she looks into Ava’s eyes. “Well, I’ll do my best to meet your standards next run.” She starts to walk away, but Ava reaches out and grabs her arm before she can walk away.

“Sara…” Ava looks down, smooths her hair back from her face. “Good luck.”

On the way to the top of the hill, Sara replays each of Ava’s movements in her mind. Her hair, her eyes, her small smile, the light blush on her cheeks — probably from the wind. Sara is somewhat of a master of seduction, but something about Ava throws off her radar. She can’t tell if Ava is flirting, or if Sara herself is even flirting.

Amaya pulls her into a hug, massages out some of her muscles, and gives her another bottle of water. She reassures Sara and lets her take a rest while the competitors cycle through.

“You’ll never guess who’s here,” Sara says, and Amaya sits next to her.

“Who?”

“Ava Sharpe.”

Amaya laughs. “Your girlfriend came to cheer you on?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Sara chuckles under her breath, though. “She barely even likes me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Amaya asks. “I wouldn’t freeze my ass off to watch just anyone in a qualifying round.”

Sara scoffs.

Getting to Sara’s turn takes longer than before, so she leans back in the snow and stares at the clouds floating in the light blue sky. Her heart beats loudly despite the long, slow breaths she takes.

Amaya tugs Sara up when it’s almost her turn. They go through the routine, and then Sara is on her way. She gets set at the top of the hill, waiting for the go-ahead.

Sara takes a breath, looks over the course, takes another breath, and jumps forward. She breezes through the first rails sections, spinning her way through the course. She gets a perfect nose tap on the hitching post, then takes the final rail with a switch and sets herself up for the jumps.

In a last-minute decision, Sara takes the center slope, flips straight up into the air, dips her shoulders and whips her feet around in a completely vertical flip. She twists a few times on the way down with an indie grab, and then lands solidly on her feet. The next jump comes into view. Sara keeps up her speed, bends her knees, and takes off. She goes through three rotations with a toe grab, then pushes her feet to the ground. A smile breaks onto her face when she maintains her balance.

The final jump is in front of Sara. She takes it in stride and pushes off, throws a backside switch fourteen-forty, and lands without hesitation.

Sara throws her head back and spreads her arms wide. The crowd roars. Sara slides to a stop, unlatches her feet, and hoists her board into the air. It’s a few moments before she gets her score.

91.10.

Sara drops to her knees.

She’s been pushed to first place, and though it isn’t a guarantee that she’ll move on to the finals, it feels like a done-deal. Sara gets up, grabs her board, and walks through the path. Everyone is shouting at her and reaching their hands out for fives. Sara obliges as best she can. At the end of the path, her friends are waiting for her. Sara runs for them, drops her board when she gets there and throws herself into the pile as her crew wraps around her.

“Sara, your dad’s on FaceTime,” Zari says as she hands the phone to Sara.

“Hey, Dad.” Sara’s holding back tears as she looks at her father’s smiling face.

“Hi, honey. I am so proud of you. Wow, you really put it down,” Quentin Lance says through tears. He sniffles. “Go celebrate and rest up, okay?”

Sara nods. “I will.” She hands the phone back to Zari just as she feels a tap on her shoulder. Ava is there, trying to contain a wide smile but failing. “Did I impress you?”

“Enough to convince me to take you out to dinner,” Ava responds. 

“Wait, what?” Sara stares at Ava, open-mouthed. The breath is knocked out of her, though, as Amaya runs and hugs her from behind.

“I’m so proud of you!” she yells. Sara laughs while trying to support their weight.

“Hold on a second, Amaya.” Sara shrugs her off and steps closer to Ava. “Dinner? Tonight?”

“I’ll meet you outside the high-rise at seven, okay?” Ava smiles brighter, her blue eyes lighting.

“Of course, yeah, yes,” Sara says. “I’ll see you then.”

“Congratulations, Sara.” Ava leaves, with Sara still spluttering in her wake.

Sara’s crew grows rowdy again. Mick punches her shoulder, and Ray gives her a high-five.

Zari puts her arm around Sara’s shoulder. “Today you get the girl, tomorrow you get the gold!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sara sticks her hands in the pockets of her long black coat. It’s a cold night in Pyeongchang, yet Sara still stands outside of the high-rise, waiting. She’s been here for ten minutes, and by now she’s getting worried. It didn’t seem like Ava to stand someone up, but it also didn’t seem like Ava to be late. Granted, Sara had left her room a bit early. After deciding on dark ripped jeans and a simple white sweater, she put her heeled boots on, let Zari pull her hair from her face, and then was on her way.

The door to the high-rise opens behind Sara, and she turns to find Ava smiling at her. She’s in a plain white button-down and black jeans, a black leather jacket covering her arms and shoulders. Her hair is down like it was earlier. Sara loves it.

“Sorry I'm late. Rip wanted to go over some films before I left,” Ava explains. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she talks.

“I just got here, you’re fine,” Sara lies.

“Ready?”

Sara nods. Ava takes a few steps forward and extends her hand towards Sara, who looks at it in shock.

“Aren’t you worried? There isn’t much privacy in the Village.”

Ava shakes her head. “Look how well hiding worked for me before. I’m not sure I care anymore.”

Sara shrugs and takes Ava’s hand, and they lace their fingers together. They walk down the hill and to the shuttle stop. A few athletes are standing around waiting for the bus to pick them up. When it arrives, they all board. Ava lets Sara take a window seat, then settles beside her.

“What time is your run tomorrow?” Ava asks as Sara stares out the window. She turns her head to find Ava much closer than she had anticipated.

“Ten. They want to get an earlier start to try and beat the wind.”

“I’ll try to get you home at a reasonable time, then,” Ava says with a small smirk.

It takes a few minutes to drive into the town, and then they have a five minute walk to the restaurant. Ava has a reservation, so they’re seated right away.

Ava, Sara learns, is brilliant. She went to Princeton on a scholarship, but she left in her third year to focus on skiing. She was majoring in history and computer science. Sara reveals that she got a degree in history as well from UCLA before she moved to Colorado. They talk about history until their dinner arrives, which is when they switch to coming-out stories.

Sara had been out from the time she realized she liked girls at the age of fifteen. She told her sister, then her father, and then her friends. No one seemed to mind. For Ava, things were a bit different. She had come out to some friends, which wasn’t a problem. Her coach, Rip Hunter, took it well. Her parents were incredibly conservative, so she never imagined telling them.

They finish dinner with their third glass of wine. Sara is feeling buzzed, and the natural blush on Ava’s face is deepening. Sara insists on paying the check, and then they stumble out of the restaurant together, laughing and teasing each other about wipeouts during competition. They make it to a shuttle, Ava leaning on Sara as the bus bounces over the road to the Olympic Village. Sara leads them off of the bus, and they’re at the door to the high-rise, and Ava is looking at Sara like her eyes are the stars. Sara’s stomach flutters.

“Can I kiss you?” Sara asks. Ava closes her eyes and nods.

Slowly, Sara brings her lips to Ava’s. She’s tentative at first, wondering how far she should take it, but Ava answers her by deepening the kiss. Before Sara knows what’s happening, she’s pushing Ava inside the door to the high-rise.

“Your room or my room?” Ava pants, her lips near Sara’s ear. Sara is about to pull her in the direction of her room when she remembers Amaya and Zari.

“Your room,” she says. Ava takes the lead and it’s moments before she’s taking her keys out of her pocket and dragging Sara into the room.

Sara throws her coat to the ground and pushes Ava’s jacket from her shoulders. She grabs the front of Ava’s shirt and walks backwards until she’s sitting on the bed, Ava in front of her. She moves her fingers to a button, but stops.

“Yes,” Ava says, punctuates it with a nod.

They waste no more time.


End file.
